


Armoire? I Hardly Know Her!

by Awakening5



Series: A Little Tight Around The Ol' One-Shooter [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Confined Space, Dumb-ass Spider-Man, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I never thought I'd write a fic where half of it takes place in an armoire but here we are, Journalist!MJ, MJ's not mad about it, Mistakes were made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awakening5/pseuds/Awakening5
Summary: Michelle is new to the whole breaking and entering thing. But it's not her fault that they almost got caught. That would be the guy she's pressed up against, hiding quietly in a mob boss's armoire. She's definitely getting friendly with the neighborhood Spider-Man.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: A Little Tight Around The Ol' One-Shooter [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056338
Comments: 29
Kudos: 76





	Armoire? I Hardly Know Her!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the incomparable, outlandishly wonderful [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/pseuds/Jsscshvlr)! Jess, thank you for the delicious prompt, and I hope you love this for you.

Breaking and entering. There is no way around it. That's what she is doing.

It's thrilling, really.

Armed with nothing but a camera, a notebook, and some pepper spray, it's also just plain stupid. But there's no turning back now. Especially when all of her leads but this one have dried up.

Hammerhead—A.K.A. John... _something_ ; last name unknown, seriously—is a slippery crime boss for being so boisterous and obvious. With a nickname like that, Michelle had mistakenly thought proving his role in the Mulligan murders would be easy. He is good at what he does though, and the patsy is in jail and anyone who suspects Hammerhead can do nothing but pull their hair out.

But Michelle Jones has two things going for her. One, no one would suspect her—Hammerhead wasn't the only one with an alias, and there is no way to tie _The Bugle_ 's award-winning Mary Jane Watson to Michelle. Two, she has access to Hammerhead's schedule. And she knows he is out tonight, along with most of his staff.

His calendar had merely stated "Birthday celebration of the greatest human on the planet".

And so she'd staked out his home for the better part of the afternoon, and when he left, she'd committed a misdemeanor. And if she finds what she's looking for, she'd just have to upgrade to a felony.

She creeps through Hammerhead's study, opens his laptop, and silently slides open and inspects drawers while she waits for it to boot up. How does this guy not have a solid state drive? _Really_.

The office is a little old-fashioned for Michelle's taste. Rich wood furnishings like the oak desk, scotch-topped credenza, and the massive armoire. Not to mention the garish rug she stands on.

"Oh hey," a voice from above her says, and Michelle jumps so sharply she might have injured her neck. Her pepper spray is out before she even recognizes Spider-Man on the ceiling. Fortunately she doesn't spray him, but instead clutches at her heart.

"Fuck, man," she takes deep breaths, trying to steady herself.

"Actually, it's Spider-Man," the masked vigilante responds. "But I've heard that nickname a few times, too." He drops to the ground beside her, and leans in. His wide white eyes narrow slightly. "You don't strike me as one of Hammerhead's goons."

"I'm _not_ ," she huffs. She likes Spider-Man, even if the publication she uses to fight crime doesn't. She thinks her own method of doing things is better, of course. Finding truth, exposing, and legally bringing down the evil in the city, rather than the fire-ready-aim approach that Spider-Man takes. In some ways, he perpetuates the problems in New York. But she can also admit to the massive amounts of good he does. Besides, she's resorting to extra-legal means for this case, so she doesn't have much of a high-ground anymore. "I'm here to find proof of Hammerhead's involvement in the Mulligan murders."

His eyes widen. "Did you trace the TNT compound shipments through his network, too?"

Michelle frowns. That stream had dried up for her. "I followed the money trail."

He tilts his head, and makes an impressed "ahh" sound. But before the next words leave his mouth, the room is filled with a red and blue glow. They both turn to the window, look down from their second-floor study, and find a pair of police cars parked out front, lights flashing.

"Shit!" Michelle backs away from the window, only mostly confident that any cameras wouldn't have been able to see through the window. _Her_ cameras hadn't worked, in any case, when she'd been casing the mansion and trying to plot her infiltration.

Her plans had never involved police.

"How did they show up so quick anyways?" she asks as she pulls out her phone so see what went wrong.

"Probably on Hammerhead's payroll," Spider-Man says casually, like he deals with this every day. He probably deals with this every day though, Michelle realizes, scanning the list on her phone. "Did you trip an alarm when you came in here?"

Michelle glares at him and holds up her phone for him to see. "The tripped motion sensor was on the third floor, _Spidey_ ," she groans. "How did you not check for motion sensors?"

He lifts his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'm not used to places having motion sensors on the third floor," he admits. He's lowered his voice, which Michelle takes to mean he knows people are close. "That's really cool, by the way. You hacked into his security system?"

"Got his passwords," she says, and doesn't care to elaborate. Instead she closes the laptop and drawers, and inspects the room for any other disturbances she might have caused. Her gloves _supposedly_ shouldn't leave any residue, and she has to assume Spider-Man's suit is the same. "So, what do we do now?"

He tenses. "There are people in the hall outside," he tells her, and she can only assume he's got a superpower that tells him such things. "I could take you with me out the window if you want?"

She shakes her head. "I can't be seen, and I guarantee they have cameras on those police cars."

"I can't believe you came in here without a mask," he says, and she detects amusement more than accusation in his tone.

"And I can't believe _you_ tripped the alarm!" she retorts, pure accusation in her tone. As much as she can muster while whispering at least.

"Right," he says, sheepish. "But you're right. I can't be seen either. My relationship with the NYPD is...tense, at the moment."

"So then what?" she asks, heart thumping.

His head swivels to the door, and a moment later, Michelle hears it. Voices and footsteps, just outside.

"We hide," he says, grabs her around the waist, and pulls her into the armoire against the wall with him. She's so taken aback by the swift movement that she doesn't really know what's going on until she's pressed to the back of the small space and Spider-Man closes the doors behind him and presses up against her.

It's dark. And it smells of bad cologne, lingering on the suit coats hanging from the bar that she _just_ missed hitting her head on. One of those suit coats is bunched behind her, pinned to the back of the closet space. And Spider-Man? Well, he's pinned to her front.

He's strong. It is the most obvious observation Michelle can make. And the only one, for the moment, as she waits with bated breath when someone enters the office.

She starts to make other observations as Spider-Man grabs her waist tighter with one hand, and under her thigh with the other. Namely that he must be a real pervert to take advantage of her inability to speak.

It becomes apparent almost immediately, though, that his intentions are not improper. Her turns them slowly, silently in the closet. And she's back to observing his strength, and the ease that he can move her. He's solid against her body, and his thigh slides in between her legs as they twist. The armoire is tall, but they're both still forced to crouch slightly to fit in the space. That shrinks the space even more, so they're practically touching head to toe, legs intertwined.

He sets her back down just as the footsteps fall outside the armoire, and now she's back to thinking ill of Spider-Man, putting _her_ near the door to be seen first. What a _fucker_.

But he places his hands on the doors behind her _just_ as the man goes to swing them open. The doors rattle against her back, but Spider-Man keeps them in place. Okay, not a fucker. Just smart and sticky.

The last seventeen seconds have been a real rollercoaster in her perception of this guy.

"Locked?" Comes a voice, farther away than the man just outside the armoire.

"Yeah," comes a second voice, loud and clear through the crack of the shut doors. "Know where he keeps his keys?"

"So you can look at a bunch of suits? Those doors don't lock from the inside, dumbass."

Michelle hears the man turn from the armoire. He sounds sad. "Shut up, Jerry."

And then the footsteps trail away, around the office.

Michelle breathes slowly, as quietly as she can. Her senses are trained to the man outside, waiting for him to leave. Knowing that even if she got out of here alive, getting caught would change her life forever.

And after excruciatingly long seconds, the man finally leaves the study, wrongfully satisfied with his search, and shuts the door behind him.

Michelle leans forward onto Spidey's shoulder and lets out a long breath.

She knows they should stay in here for the foreseeable future. Just to be safe.

"Um, miss?" he asks, voice soft and strained. She tilts her head back to look at him. With the minimal light streaming into the armoire from the crack, she can see his faint outline. "Can you let go of my butt please?"

"Oh my god," she breathes out, and realizes, yes. At some point in the grabbing and the turning and fearing for her life, her hands had slid down his back and were nestled right on the very pleasant curve of his backside. She releases him immediately. "I am so sorry."

"Not a problem," he chuckles lightly. "I normally wouldn't mind—and I'd probably _like_ it, even—but we're in a tight space, and you're a startlingly beautiful woman, and we're pressed together, and as much as I can minimize...um...thoughts, and stuff—"

"I get it," she says with a groan, because now she's reminded that she's basically straddling his thigh and she can _feel_ the hard muscle of his leg under her and—

Yeah. The fewer 'thoughts and stuff' the better.

Now she doesn't know what to do with her hands though, and holds them awkwardly to the side, where she bumps a suit, and its hanger slides loudly on the bar, so she whips her hands right back to his chest. And _fuck_ he feels amazing there, too.

"Is this okay?" she asks, breathless.

"It probably has to be," he stutters. "Can you just...I don't know. Talk about the case or something?"

Yeah. Murder is a good discussion topic.

"The Mulligans got murdered last week."

Spider-Man nods. "Yeah—explosives under the car."

"Johnston is a fall guy," Michelle explains. And Spidey nods again. "Usually fall guys are either blackmailed or someone close to them comes into a lot of money."

"The money trail," he says with a nod. "Who was it?"

"His sister. She's a single mother with two little kids."

"And what's your stake in this?" he asks.

Michelle shrugs. "Truth and justice. You?"

He's nodding again. "Similar. Throw in duty."

Michelle frowns. "It's your responsibility?"

He sighs. "I feel like it is."

Truth be told, she's never known Spider-Man's motivations. It's not like he can possibly be rich from what he does. It sure seems pro-bono, especially considering the lack of authority he acts with. And if his absurdly ripped chest under her hands and his muscled thigh between her legs wasn't enough of a turn-on, this new nugget of information certainly helps. Completely unnecessary though, because the aforementioned chest and thigh were definite turn-ons.

"What's your name?" he asks, and Michelle feels one of his hands settle back on her. Her lower back. The touch sends a shock up her spine.

"You can call me MJ," she says, still unsure which of her names she wants to give him.

"I'm Peter," he responds, and then sucks in a breath. "Fuck. That's—I didn't...Did you hear that?"

"The thing you just told me out loud two seconds ago?" she says, fighting off a grin. "That your name is Peter?"

"Fuck. Yes. That. I'm not thinking so clearly right now." He shifts his weight, and his grip tightens and he accidentally rubs her pleasantly with his leg. And yeah, she's not thinking clearly either.

"That's okay Peter," she says. "Your secret is safe with me."

"What about your stake in truth?" he asks.

"There would be no justice in outing you."

He's still for a few seconds, and she hears him swallow. "When we get out of here—do you want to meet up somewhere? Compare notes?"

She tries _really_ hard to hear innuendo in his question. It's not quite there. But _something_ is. "Are you really asking me out while we're locked in an armoire?"

Peter chuckles. "Yeah. I guess I am. Not locked though. You probably could've left minutes ago."

"I did not expect this night to go this way," Michelle says, a little light-headed.

"Literally swept off your feet?"

Michelle's heart thunders in her chest. "Locked in a dark armoire with Spider-Man."

"That sounds less romantic," he says, but his hand pulls her tighter to him. "And again. Not locked."

Her hands creep up his chest until she finds a seam in his suit. "Can we pretend it is for just a minute longer?"

She gives him plenty of time to stop her as she lifts his mask slowly, inch by inch. He doesn't stop her.

"Maybe it _does_ lock from the inside," he breathes out as the mask hikes over his chin. Then his mouth. She can just make out their shapes in the dark. She folds the mask over his nose and lets it rest.

"And yes, Peter," she says. "I think I would like to meet up later. But I've got just a _little_ more investigative work to do first," she adds before leaning in to press her lips to his.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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